30 Days of Destiel!
by Kyla394
Summary: Just 30 one-shots of Destiel. Please, enjoy!
1. Scream, Scream, Scream

_A man is many things,  
Let's count them all tonight.  
You're letting go of strings, replacing them with light.  
But they want the hit about the teenage take on pain,  
There's nothing catchy 'bout the life of a saint  
but I've got this song in my head,  
'cause it's breaking me down to tears..._

* * *

He had left Sam back at the library, he was too fed up with himself to sit in silence, festering in the fact that he could draw no conclusions from the multitude of information given to him. There was a blonde girl killed here, a brunette woman killed there, an elderly man killed next... None of it made sense, and making sense of things had never been his strong suit. Let Sam deal with the laptop and the encyclopedias, Dean had the much better plan of drinking until nothing was clear to him anymore.

However, nothing ever seemed to go according to plan anymore. He'd been a step away from walking into the motel room and drinking until he passed out, but his lovely bliss was interrupted by a call from his brother. "What's up?" He questioned, unlocking the door, balancing his cell between his cheek and shoulder as he shrugged his bag to the floor.

"There's another one, Dean. Her name was Megan Chantillily. Red hair, blue eyes, pale skin... I think I found a connection. I'm going to keep looking in on it." Beep. Not even so much as a goodbye for his older brother.

Dean sat on the end of the bed now, his legs straddling the corner. He cupped his face in his hands, his dark hair falling forward as he leaned towards the ground. Megan Chantilily. He had known that Irish girl. She had been in one of his high school's in some past year. She hadn't been popular, but she had been nice to him even when he was not nice to her. She'd even gone as far as taking the blame for burning a hole in one of the chemistry tables with a lethal chemical mixture. She'd gotten a week's detention for that, and he'd gotten laid for breaking her out one of those times.

Over the years they hadn't lost contact, they still emailed once or twice a year. There just wasn't time for relationships, romantic or otherwise, with Dean's constant hunting trips or Megan's new baby. Still, the emails had been a part of life. A reality he should have known was too normal to remain in his life.

He let a breath of air slip through his teeth, and he jumped to his feet, left arm swinging out and sending a vase on the nearby table crashing to the ground, the yellow daises inside loosing a petal as the glass shattered. He let out a weak scream, no one could have heard his near silent frustrations, and kicked at the bed, knocking the cheap frame from it's center and causing the mattress to go lopsided.

That wasn't enough for Dean though, not with another friend dead. Not with a friend dead on a case he should have fixed by now. No one should be dying! He should be saving them!

Without realizing it, he had stumbled into the bathroom, and hovered in front of the mirror. His hands gripped the sides of the sink as he starred into the mirror, lips twisting into a frown as his pained eyes starred back.

He let out another sound of frustration, for everything and everyone he had lost, for the things he would never gain... And his fist lashed out, smashing the mirror. It cracked down the middle and twisted out like a web, a shard or two fell into the sink. His hand bled profusely as he starred at his now warped appearance, his shoulders rising and falling as he took deep breaths.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, just as water pressure began to build... When he opened them again, Castiel's reflection was also standing haphazardly in the mirror, his serious features set into a frown. "What do you need, Cas?"

"You prayed to me, Dean." He stated matter-of-factly. "To make it better. To make what better?"

Dean looked down, eyes moving rapidly as he starred at the sink, which was slowly collecting his blood. "This. Life. Anything. ...Everything." He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. He took a breath and spun to face his friend, easily composing himself, as was the Dean Winchester way. "I was just... I'm fine. Nevermind."

"You are not fine." Cas said slowly, his bright eyes falling to Dean's hand, which dripped red blood onto the floor. The angel reached his hand out, lifting Dean's injured one. "You are hurt. You should tell me when you are hurt. I am your... Friend. I can heal you." He stated, wrapping both of his hands around the Winchester's, starring at the human's eyes as he healed him.

"Thanks, Cas." He said, starring back at the angel, neither of them bothering to move their hands.

* * *

**Author's Note- Thank you for taking the time to read my types! This has been a challenge for me, and I'm not as far into it as I should be (I should be finished ten times over by now!), however I want to keep writing some Destiel one-shots. I have just revamped some parts, and even deleted one I found rather suck-ish, and it is no longer a 30 Days of Destiel thingamabob, it is now a Days of Destiel thingamabob. I would love for you to send me songs or prompt ideas, as there is only so much my brain conjures up, and I am going to have at least thirty parts to this (though they will not be uploaded everyday, and on occasion not even every week, sorry!). Thank you again for reading, and please enjoy the next few days! Carr on my wayward readers.~**


	2. So Small

_What you got if you ain't got love?_  
_The kind that you just want to give away.._  
_It's okay to open up,_  
_Go ahead and let the light shine through._  
_I know it's hard on a rainy day,_  
_You want to shut the world out and just be left alone.._  
_But don't run out on your faith._

* * *

"Have you ever spent the night out on a hunt previously?" Castiel asked, stretching the pale blue blanket over the bottom of the tent. They had rented it an hour or so ago, after deciding spending the night in the great outdoor's would be the best way to lure the monster out in the night. The boys' still didn't know what it was they were hunting, but apparently the sucker was extremely gifted when it came to hiding. They had been searching for at least three days, and so far there were no leads, other then murders in the forest. Good thing they were camping in the same forest, then.

Dean shrugged, tossing a heavier blanket over the one Cas had stretched out. It was mid-March, bound to be cold in the Pennsylvanian mountains, and both of them felt cold now, and needed sleep (Castiel had lost his wings approximately three months ago). Such trivial things to worry about, Cas thought, the cold air and the possible need to pee in the night tickled his thoughts as well. "Yeah, a few times. Usually we don't need to, but who know's what this creepy son of a bitch actually is." Dean muttered, chucking his bag down to the ground, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Sam was in a separate tent, with the Australian Sheppard he and Dean had taken in a few weeks ago, after Sam went on and on about the dog. Dean certainly hadn't been fond of the idea, but it made Sam happy, and the dog had it's uses, so the elder Winchester had learned to live with the hanging stink of dog in his Impala, and the hairs he found on his clothing. The three had considered sharing a tent, but in the end they decided against it, and Sam had set up elsewhere in the woods. More ground would be covered that way.

Dean pulled his coat around his chest, falling to his back on the blankets, pulling the thicker one to his chest. Castiel awkwardly followed suit, and Dean turned off the lantern, yawning as he faced the fabric of the tent, which ruffled in the breeze.

The local stories were that this creature, whatever the hell it was, didn't show it's face unless you were sleeping. It woke you in the middle of your dreams, and then BAM! it attacked. Well, Dean had his weapon at a ready, and Cas did as well. The ex-angel was morphing into a fine hunter, though his people-skills still needed some serious work.

"Goodnight, Dean." Castiel yawned, still settling in to this new pattern of sleeping. It was a strange feeling, lying still, waiting for your mind to succumb to a darkness... He rustled slightly under the blankets, letting his bright eyes close.

Dean turned onto his back, starring at the top of the tent. "'Night, Cas."

* * *

Dean woke to the sound of his phone buzzing, and the feeling of his lips on skin. His arm was draped over a body, whom's chest rose and fell slightly. He wasn't sure who was more surprised as their eyes opened, he or Castiel, but the two practically jumped apart. Cas's cheeks flushed, and Dean cleared his throat as he twisted and grabbed his phone, flipping it open. "What?" He asked, his voice surprisingly calm, hiding his embarrassment well.

"I got it." Sam answered, his breathing rapid and shallow. "I'm fine. It was something like that bug that possessed Bobby and you awhile back. I stuck it in a jar."

"Great, I'm sick of nature. I think some ants got in and made a buffet of me." Dean grunted, scratching his arm, it's color a bit red, though that may have been from his sudden burst of embarrassment.

Sam laughed a bit, and Dean could practically hear his brother roll his eyes. "I'll see you at the motel later." And he hung up, that was usually the extent and the nature of their conversations, and Dean couldn't bring himself to care. Perhaps they should say more, but neither of them were particularly good with that. He flipped his own phone shut, and slipped it into his back pocket.

"Sam got the thing. We're good to go." He announced to Cas, who was fiddling idly with his trench coat.

Castiel's face turned a shade brighter, and he cleared his throat. "Dean, what-"

"It was nothing Cas, just forget it." Dean instructed, his gaze meeting Castiel's, unflinching as always.

"I do not want to forget it." Castiel offered shyly, and Dean was taken aback.

"What?"

"Why do we have to forget it?"

"Because, Cas, it isn't right."

Cas let his head drop, eyes creasing in concentration. "I'm not right?" He asked, blue eyes still intense as he turned his gaze back to Dean.

"It's not you, it's just... The situation." Dean gestured around him desperately as he tried to explain.

Cas was as confused as ever. "You do many things that are not right. You do not pay for motel rooms, you lie to people, you kill those possessed by demons... Sometimes, you do not need to be right?" It ended with the sound of a question as Castiel stepped forward, that same look on his face.

"Well, no, but that's different-"

"How?"

"It just is."

Cas was right before him now, a new confidence in him as Dean did not back away, and as Dean met his gaze evenly. He wanted this too, but he shouldn't. He couldn't.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "I have been told I'm wrong a lot." He grinned, before closing the space between them, his lips moving against Castiel's lightly. He pulled back almost instantly, his lips barely brushing against the other man's.

"I did something wrong?" Cas asked, his head tilting to this side as it did when a huge question weighed on his shoulders.

"No," Dean grunted. "You were fine."

"But it's wrong..." Castiel nodded, letting his voice trail off. He couldn't see how it was wrong, Dean had done the same thing to many woman. Why should it make any difference with Cas? Was it because he had a gender, or rather because his vessel had the gender of a male?

Dean shoulders slumped. "Damn, I'm sorry Cas, I shouldn't screw with you like that. It's just, I like you Cas, but I can't-"

"You mean you won't." Castiel replied evenly, his burning blue gaze matching Dean's green one.

"Please, Cas, I-"

"I'm sorry. I'd leave you to be, but-" But he'd fallen from Heaven a few weeks ago. He couldn't just poof out of an awkward situation, or stand guard all night, or wear that suit and trench coat all the time..

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and leaned forward again, indecision burning in his green irises. "I don't want you to leave." He whispered slowly, barely daring to say the words. "Just-Just don't tell anyone, Cas. Not yet. They won't get it."

Castiel nodded, and Dean pressed his lips to the ex-angel's, leaning in as Cas's lips welcomed his. The two were close to each other now, pressed against each other. Their chests heaved against each other, and they clung to the other like a lifeline.

They parted slowly, ruefully, only when they heard Sam calling their names.

* * *

**Author's Note- Thank you for reading! I love you for it! Don't forget to send me songs and/or prompts you'd like to have a entry based off of! Carry on my wayward readers.~**


	3. Fallen Angel

_Win big-Mama's fallen angel.._  
_Lose big-livin' out of lies.._  
_Wants it all-Mama's fallen angel.._  
_Lose it all, rollin' the dice of his life._

_Now he found himself in the fast lane, livin' day to day,_  
_Turned his back on his best friends,_  
_And watched the family slip away..._

* * *

"Get the door, Sam." Dean instructed, shifting Castiel's weight over his shoulder as he staggered forward, slamming the door to the Impala shut behind him. Castiel had passed out in the Impala at least twenty minutes ago, and Dean hadn't taken his eyes off of the angel since. He pressed his rolled-up flannel to the wound in Castiel's abdomen, eyes slanted as he rushed Sam to go faster and faster, and to ignore those red lights, and to swerve around the little old lady with the walker... Of course it was all justified, in the elder Winchester's eyes. There was something seriously wrong with Cas. When he had been awake, his eyes had been starring, and his limbs limp. He wasn't healing. ...He wasn't healing.

Sam threw open the door as commanded, shutting and locking it behind him. "I'll get something to help stop the bleeding." He rushed out, disappearing the opposite way of Dean as the shorter man staggered to his room, kicking open the door and dropping Castiel onto the bed. He slid the man's trench coat from his shoulders and tossed it to the floor, then situated himself to keep pressure on the still slowly-bleeding wound.

"I got some gauze," Sam announced as he entered, tossing a roll of it onto the bed. "I don't know where the rest of the medical supplies are. I grabbed some string and a needle that might work for stitches or something." He rushed out, his eyes creased as he starred down at Castiel, whom was growing paler by the second. "Why isn't he healing?"

Dean shrugged, tossing his shirt to the ground and wiping away the blood surrounding Cas's wound with a piece of gauze. "I don't know." He grumbled, grabbing a piece of the string in his mouth, tearing it was his teeth and threading it through the needle.

"Is he going to be-"

"Yes." Dean looked up briefly, for the first time since he'd grabbed Cas bridal-style and hauled him into the Impala. His green eyes offered Sam the challenge of refuting Dean's assurance that Cas would be fine, but the younger brother didn't try to dash his hopes.

Instead he walked into the hallway, closing his eyes, the skin around them crinkling. "I'll go look for something better." He decided, nodding curtly and pulling the door almost to a close behind him, leaving his brother to deal with the angel. He'd find something a bit more useful, then come back. But in all honesty, he knew where this story led, and he knew his brother needed some time alone when the conclusion drew to an end.

"Cas, wake up." Dean commanded, slapping the man's cheek lightly, hitting him a bit harder the second time. "Dammit Cas, what happened?" He asked, eyes scanning back and forth, refusing to settle on a singular point, refusing to see the evidence presented to him. His angel was fine, he'd been through much worse.

But dammit, why the hell wasn't he healing?

Dean moved his gaze back down to the hole in Castiel's side, closing his burning eyes and letting out a breath before he took the needle in his hand, and poked it through Castiel's skin. He wasn't quite sure how to administer stitches, but once, a long time ago, John had taught him how to sew. He had found it weird and awkward at the time (why the hell did his dad know how to sew?) but now it was coming in handy. There was really no difference, right? Skin, fabric... Same difference...

He was a third of the way there when Castiel's blue eyes fluttered open, and his hand shot to where Dean was working. "Dean, that hurts." He whispered, his voice dull, laced with pain and confusion. "Dean, it hurts." He said, though Dean had stopped stitching his side, and was now standing over the side of the bed. "Dean, it hurts!" Castiel screamed, leaping from the bed, gripping Dean's shoulders and starring into his green eyes. "It's hurts!" He shouted, fingers digging into Dean's skin, blue eyes watering.

Dean shook his head, confusion warping his features. "What, Cas? What hurts?"

His only response was a crippling scream that left Castiel crumbling to the floor, writhing in pain, tears falling freely down his face. "It hurts!" He screeched, twisting against the floor, his upper half held up only by Dean's arms, for Castiel's body seemed to no longer be working.

"What hurts, Cas?" Dean ask, panic rising in his voice as he lifted the angel's head, and starred into his eyes.

Castiel closed his eyes, letting out a low breath, visibly shaking. "I can't feel them, Dean. I can't feel them!" He stated, panic, sorrow and fear prominent in his bright irises. "I can't feel them."

"What...? Cas, what can't you feel?" Dean asked, shaking his head slightly as he scanned the angel's eyes.

"My wings." It was barely a whisper, more of a whimper then anything. Something broke in Castiel at the moment, a dam that held back all he wasn't supposed to feel. He screamed again in pain, and feel forward, slumping against the Winchester. "My wings are gone." He whimpered as Dean reached around him, situating the other man. When he pulled his hands away they were covered in blood, with a few stray, black feathers sticking to his fingers tips.

Dean felt sorrow bloom in his chest. Someone had cut out his grace. "Cas, I'm so-"

"What am I going to do?" The now ex-angel asked, searching Dean's face for an answer.

"I don't know, Cas." Dean admitted, wishing he had better news.

Cas's eyes feel the ground, hollow and empty, unwavering until he felt Dean's arms around him. He felt his own arms respond, clutching the Winchester tightly to him.

* * *

**Author's Note- Thanks for reading! I actually kinda sorta like this one and might expand it a bit... I don't know... Merp. Don't forget about offering some ideas for an entry! Carry on my wayward readers.~**


	4. What I Cannot Change

_Cream and sugar in my coffee,_  
_Right away when I awake,_  
_I face the day_  
_And pray to God,_  
_I won't make the same mistakes._  
_All the rest is out of my hands._  
_I will learn to let go what I cannot change,_  
_I will learn to forgive what I cannot change._  
_I will learn to love what I cannot change,_  
_But I will change, I will change,_  
_Whatever I, whenever I can._

* * *

It was always sort of... Awkward at nights, now that Castiel had nowhere else to go. Heaven didn't want him, or rather they only wanted to use him, Kevin just wasn't in the mood for company anymore, and Cas had already seen, well, everywhere. So he found himself just wandering around the house, looking for things to do.

He tried baking a few times, though he couldn't handle anything more then a box cake, and even they brunt sometimes.

He sat and watched television most nights, even though he didn't really pay attention, since almost everything was lacking in a plot these days.

Once, he even tried knitting, not that he'd dare tell Sam or Dean. He'd just found a 'How To' book, read it, and decided to give it a go.

It was this consecutive line of failures that led him to where he stood, hovering in the doorway to Dean's room, light from the hallway sending his shadow towards the bed. It was nerve-wracking, how much time he had to think when the Winchester's slept, and how they didn't even know the inner turmoil of his mind.

He wasn't sure exactly what feelings were, but he was positive that's what he could call the annoying fluttering in his heart. And they way he felt suffocated when he tried to speak to Dean, and received only silence.

Castiel stepped into the room, and towards the bed, hovering over Dean. He lowered himself onto the end of the mattress, causing it to sag under his added weight. "Dean," He whispered, then said it again, louder. "Dean, wake up." He reached his arm out, shaking the slumbering man until he grunted, and slowly peeled open his green eyes. On seeing the man who woke him, he grumbled and hauled himself up.

"What?" He asked curtly, not even looking at the angel sitting next to him.

Cas opened his mouth, then shut it again, then opened it a second time. "I'm sorry Dean, I-"

"I don't want to hear it." Dean muttered, letting himself fall back down and closing his eyes, opening them only when he felt Castiel's breath against his cheek. The angel was leaning over him, his bright blue eyes panicked as they searched Dean's face.

He shook his head slightly, trying to form words. "I don't know what to do, Dean. I don't know how to fix it." He confessed, the panic transferring to the tone of his voice as his eyes locked on the Winchester's.

"Sometimes Cas, you can't just fix your mistakes." Dean scoffed, eyes slanting as he looked up.

Cas's hands, which were helping to hold himself up, grabbed at the comforter. "Dean, I can't have you hate me. I need you, too." He whispered, closing his eyes.

"Cas, I don't hate you." Dean sighed, pushing the other man back, so that they could both sit with their legs hanging over the bed. "I couldn't /hate/ you..."

Cas wasn't sure whether to be relieved or confused as he turned to Dean, his blue eyes shining with question. "What can I do, Dean?"

"I don't know, Cas. You just- You never trust me. I can't trust someone who doesn't trust me." He said, his voice cold, unwavering.

Castiel's shoulders slumped, and he nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm still learning how to trust. Everyone wants something from me."

"Well Cas, I'm the only one who wants something form you, and hasn't turned around and tried to kill you or control your mind." They both smiled a bit at this, then Dean let out a breath, and turned back to Cas. "You can trust me."

"I know that, now." Cas stated. "I wish I would have known it sooner."

"Me too."

"Thank you. For not hating me. For still needing me."

"Get out of here, Cas. I need some sleep."

"Goodnight, Dean."

* * *

**Author's Note- Thanks for reading! Follows/favorites/reviews LOVED! Don't forget to leave entry ideas! Carry on my wayward readers.~**


	5. You're Not Leaving Me

_Go on, pack your suitcase if you want to._  
_Yeah, pitch a fit till your face turns blue._  
_You can say what you want and think what you think._  
_Sit right down and pour yourself a drink 'cause,_  
_You're not leaving me, you're not leaving me..._  
_You're not leaving me, you're not leaving me..._

* * *

Castiel was a fallen angel, and had been living with the Winchester's for the past few months. He learned things about them he never knew before- Dean didn't change the radio station when Martina McBride came on, and Sam had a sort of soft spot for country music, Dean's biggest pet peeve was "little shit's who's shoe laces didn't match", and Sam's favorite way to spend time was delving into books that contained the most random amount of knowledge, or he delved into Harry Potter, whichever he felt like that day.

Castiel had also noticed the wild mood shift in Dean over the course of the past week. While Dean was never known to be the nicest guy in town, he had never been so blatantly hurtful, nor so carelessly crude. He walked around Lancaster, PA with a crease in his brow and knuckles clenched, and whenever Cas tried to ask what was wrong, Dean yelled at him. He didn't speak, he yelled, his tone laced with something close to hate and his word choice filled with vulgarity. He was, quite frankly, a menace.

It was the end of the week when Cas had had enough, no one would tell him what was wrong (and by no one he meant Sam and Dean). He wandered into the kitchen in the hotel suite they had rented, the one they could afford solely because the manager's Mother had been a hunter in her youth. "Sam," The younger Winchester looked up from his thick text, though said nothing. "Tell me what's wrong with Dean," He sat down across the table from the long-haired man, weaving his fingers together on the tabletop. "Please."

Sam sighed, closing his book, overlapping his arms. "He always gets this way. Today marks the day our Mom..." Silence for a few seconds, Sam collecting his own feelings, no doubt, then a continued whisper. "He still isn't over it. I think he blames himself..." Sam trailed off, then stood abruptly. "Just leave him to it, I guess. I'm going to go out, check on another lead, I'll be back in an hour or two."

Sam pulled on his suit jacket, doing up a few of the buttons as he made for the door. "Sam, are you alright?" Castiel asked from where he now stood, his eyes fixated on the youngest of the trio.

"I'm fine Cas, I just need to keep busy. I'll see you later." And that was that- Sam left, the door clicking shut and locking behind him.

And Cas sat back down, balancing his head in his palms, debating what to do. In the end he fished a piece of apple pie from the back of the fridge, and made his way to the one bedroom in the nice hotel suite, and he rapped lightly on the door.

"Dammit Cas, would you just leave me alone?" Dean spoke from the other side of the door, his voice raw and scratchy.

"Dean, I have pie." Cas responded, growing more concerned when the door remained closed. "Let me in." He drawled, his manners failing, his knuckles tapping the door frame once again. Still no answer. "I'm coming in." Castiel decided after a few minutes of standing awkwardly outside the door, the slice of apple pie still held on the plate in his hands. He set the treat back on the counter, before opening a drawer, fishing out a lock pick. After a few failed attempts the door swung open, revealing Dean sitting on the corner of the bed, his hands covering his face.

"Dammit Cas, just leave."

"But, Dean, I-"

"Just fucking leave."

"No." Cas stated firmly, walking to the end of the small bed, sitting next to Dean. "Do you want to talk about her?" The ex-angel asked, his hands balancing on his lap, his eyes focused on Dean.

Dean laughed, hysterically. "No, I don't want to fucking talk about her. She's dead, Cas. Dead and she has been for years and talking about her won't fucking help anything. I shouldn't even be thinking about her, I should be out there hunting down whatever son of a bitch needs hunting down. I mean, she died years ago, /years/ ago. So why the fuck am I sitting here ready to cry like a little girl?"

Cas didn't have an answer to that. He was still new to human emotions, to feelings. But he knew what loss felt like, and he knew words weren't going to fix it. Nothing would. With nothing to say, the ex-angel merely put his arm around Dean, who tensed at the feel of it, though relaxed after a few moments of protest. Cas felt the other man's muscles go slack underneath his touch, and he was surprised when he suddenly felt Dean wrapped around him, the Winchester's hands gripping the back of his shirt, wrinkling and ruining it.

"I should have done something, Cas. I shouldn't have left, I shouldn't have let my dad leave. I should have kept her from going into the nursery, I should have-" His voice broke off as he buried his face into the nook of Castiel's shoulder, tears streaming down his face. "I should have done /something/."

"How could you have? Dean, this isn't your fault." Cas spoke as softly as he could manage, his own arms lifting and wrapping around Dean in his best effort at comfort.

Dean said nothing in response, just a few murmurs on how he was a weak little girl, and how he needed to grow some balls and go out and face the day. But for the next hour, despite his own protests, he didn't let go of Castiel's shirt and Castiel made no move to leave. However, eventually, the two broke apart.

Wordlessly Cas excused himself from the room and walked over to the kitchen counter, grabbing the pie and setting in front of the door Dean had closed behind him. The angel then pulled the bed from the couch, such an amazing thing, and fell across it, reading one of Sam's books and waiting for the young Winchester to return.

* * *

**Author's Note- You know the drill! Leave me some entry ideas! Follows are so loved, and reviews make me SO happy. Thank you so much for reading! Carry on my wayward readers.~**


	6. If I Know Me

_But if I know me,_  
_I'll turn this car around._  
_I won't get halfway through town,_  
_And I'll be sorry ._  
_I'll stop and call,_  
_And you'll say you're sorry too,_  
_And I'll come running back to you._  
_If I know me ._  
_Sometimes I lose me head.._  
_Say things to break your heart.._  
_Forgetting if I lost your love,_  
_It would tear my world apart._  
_If I know you, you didn't mean,_  
_A single word you said.._  
_Truth be known your dying crying,_  
_Lying there in bed._

* * *

How had he ended up here, and, more importantly, why couldn't he pull away? He was just starring down into blue eyes, as though he was held to them, as though they were magnetic... Time seemed to freeze as his brain tried to make sense of what has happening. But there was no sense to it. If there was, he would have moved. He wouldn't have his face only centimeters from the angel's, and he wouldn't be comfortable with staying that way.

They had just been practicing some new fighting moves. Cas had come to Dean, saying things of wanting to be a hunter, and Dean had decided to show Castiel how it wasn't all rainbows and pie. He hadn't thought the angel would be so quick to learn new moves, even if the guy had fought a war in a Heaven. Dean was used to being the best in hand to hand combat, and being punched and shoved to the ground did damage to his ego.

It also did damage to his face and bare arm. Though injuries weren't a prominent problem, seeing as Cas could just use some angel hoodoo and fix everything, although it did hurt like hell when bones shifted and eyes swelled. Both men were worse for wear, before either gave it up, and were healed.

It had started out as a friendly little thing, with fake throws and painless kicking. But somewhere along the way, frustration seeped into the mix. All of Dean's ill feeling towards Castiel surfaced, and his clenched fist connected with the angel's cheekbone, causing a stomach-churning crunch. After that, Dean couldn't stop. Every horrible thing Cas had ever done was all he could think about, and he fought like his life depended on it.

For awhile, Castiel accepted his punishment. He knew he deserved it, and much worse. But then he remembered Dean had done wrong to him, too, and had also made poor decisions. He fought back, and soon the men were rolling around, beating each other into bloody pulp's, though Castiel always healed either himself or Dean before things got really bad.

"How could you do that, Cas/tiel/?" Dean shouted, spitting out the last syllables of Cas's name as he rose to his feet, rubbing his slack jaw and moving forward, every muscle in his body tense and prepared to attack. "How could you just.. Take the tablet and leave me there? I had no fuckin' clue what was happening. Why can't you ever just trust me?"

"Because, Dean," Castiel's voice was deep and concentrated, like it always was when he was angry. "You have messed up in the past. You have banished me to your benefit." SMACK! The two's fists collided, snapping bones in hands and twisting their faces into looks of pain. They jumped apart, still seething.

"You pretended to be God, Cas. Pretty sure that beats everything I've done." Dean growled, and lunged at Castiel, who stood frozen in his place. Dean was met with no resistance, which startled him, and the two fell against the cement ground, Castiel's head cracking against the floor.

That's where they were, now. Bleeding and hovering inches apart, starring at each other, blinking quickly and at long intervals. "I-" Cas began, then closed his eyes. "I am sorry, Dean."

He felt the elder Winchester's grip loosen on him, and he opened his eyes again, surprised to see the compassion in the other man's green irises. "I shouldn't have brought it up-"

"You should have. It does not deserve to be forgotten." He mumbled, lifting his arms as high as he could, though Dean was still pinning him down. He placed his fingertips against the Winchester's cheek, as that was as high as he could reach, and healed him. "And it can never be forgiven." He added, blinking, healing himself.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly, his mouth hanging open as he searched for something to say. "But I have, Cas. Forgiven you. People make mistakes." He grumbled, green eyes searching blue eyes.

Cas felt a lazy smile tug at the corner of his lips. "Not mistakes like that, Dean."

Dean took a breath, looking at the man below him, knowing what he was about to do. "No, but people can make mistakes like this." He said, so silently if Cas wasn't a supernatural, he probably wouldn't have heard. He was about to ask what Dean meant, when he felt the other man's lips brush against his.

For a moment, there was nothing but confusion. Confusion because what the fuck was Dean doing kissing a /man/, and how the fuck had it come to this? They had literally been beating each other bloody five minutes ago! Confusion because why was Dean kissing him? And how was a kiss supposed to work?

After a few heartbeats and some nervous fumbling, the two were sitting upright, still lip-locked, Castiel's hands buried in Dean's hair. Dean moaned silently as Cas tugged his hair, and the Winchester placed one hand on the small of the angel's back, and the other around his shoulder. It was as though they had both been waiting ages for this moment to happen, and now that it had... Neither could stop.

* * *

**Author's Note- Most of you have probably read this already, sorry! I'm just trying to reorganize and yeah... I'll try maybe uploading a new one tonight/tomorrow to make it up to you. On a side note, I leave for University in 6 days! :o Thank you so much! REVIEWS AND FOLLOWS LOVED! Carry on my wayward readers.~**


	7. I Want It (Pardon Grammar Errors)

_ Uhh, yeah, love_  
_You know we always, we always talkin 'bout love_  
_We always thinkin 'bout it y'know_  
_I'm in love, I want love, I need love, whatever_  
_But like sometimes I wonder_  
_With all the hurt and pain that people that supposedly love you put you through_  
_Is that really love?  
It really is love.  
And I want it._

* * *

This wasn't real, surely. It was clearly a twisted dream scape, or perhaps a mutilated reality. Yes, the latter must be it. Gabriel was back (how didn't matter), and had taken to toying with the Winchester's again. That damn angel always did like making an entrance, and Sam couldn't think of one better than this. Better then throwing him completely off of his guard and off of his game, leaving him vulnerable and confused...

Hell, Garth could probably scare him from behind right now, because the younger Winchester wasn't processing anything. He wasn't aware of anything but the scene in the kitchen.

All he saw was his older brother, and an ex-angel, and they were... /Kissing./ They were wrapped up in each other's arms, lips locked, hands fumbling through hair, eyes closed, toes touching... Sam closed his eyes, and when the scene disappeared for that brief second, his brain kicked back into action. He should leave them alone. They probably wouldn't appreciate his barging in, and he knew Dean wouldn't have any idea on what to say.

As silently as possible, Sam backed out of the kitchen door and into the main living quarters of the 'Bat Cave'. He slowly made his way to the couch, eyebrows creased in concentration as he flopped onto the plush sofa, half expecting a camera crew to jump out at him and yell "You just got PUNK'D!" or something along those lines.

Or perhaps something a little more realistic, like a trickster angel with a babe on one arm and chocolate bar in the opposite hand poofing into the center of the room and smirking, saying "Honey, I'm home!"

Neither happened, and he was left to think about this new, and confusing reality.

Now, it wasn't the part the Cas was an angel (sort of) that confused him. He wasn't one to judge, and hell he couldn't judge even if he was one to. He had been with a demon, so there was that... He closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples.

It wasn't because he was a guy (also sort of) either. Sam Winchester couldn't care less about who loved guys and who loved girls, because love was love and that was that.

What confused the young man was how those two could love each other, even through all the faults they had seen. All the faults again each other.

They were countless times they had beaten each other bloody, and even more times when the two had refused to put their trust in the other... He knew how betrayed Dean had felt when Cas left him in the dust, after Dean had wanted so horribly to believe the angel was innocent. He knew how hurt Cas was when Dean cast him off, like a nusance fly the elder Winchester just didn't feel like dealing with.

But maybe that was where the love came from. It came from being hurt, and being able to forgive things that should be unforgiveable. Maybe that was love, by the strict definition of the word.

Or maybe Sam Winchester was a crazy little (giant-sized) man.

Maybe he was stupid for not at least expecting it a little bit. For not seeing the looks that lasted a little too long, for not paying attention to the way the two spoke to each other, for not feeling how pained Castiel was when Dean wouldn't speak to him.

The young Winchester bowed his head, his long hair falling over his ears. How long had they been... Kissing in the kitchen? He shook his head. Maybe he didn't want to think about /that/. He let his mind wander back to how forgiving each man was in the relationship.

He wanted that. He wanted to be able to feel love that was strong enough to look past ultimate cimes. He wanted someone he could not live without. He wanted what they had.

And he knew just where to find it.

* * *

**Author's Note- I'm sorry this is so suckish, lol. I just wanted to make something a little less depressing then I normally do, and I wanted to upload tonight. The next installment will be better, I promise! Don't forget to leave some suggestions for an entry! Thank you for reading, I love you truly, madly, deeply! Reviews make my day (and so do follows and favorites but it really means a lot when you take the time to actually say something about my types. ^.^). Carry on my wayward readers.~**


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